Headlights on Dark Roads
by lilbluedancer
Summary: Oliver saves Felicity from the clutches of Damian Darhk but part of her is still lost in the darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi guys; I'm back! I was craving some Olicity and ended up with whatever this little multi-chap fic turned into. Hope you enjoy, please remember to review ;)**

When he comes for her, it's quiet.

It's a Tuesday, and Curtis is in her office, going over the algorithm he's been working on for the board presentation in four months.

There's no fanfare, no uniformed men, no smoke and mirrors.

Damien Darhk just strolls right into her office in a crisp black suit, a little sly smile playing on his lips. He crooks his finger at her, and that's it. That's all it takes.

The king of ghosts leads her out of the office and into the dark.

/

Felicity calls him right after a strategy meeting. Oliver picks up and puts the phone on speaker so he can skim through his notes as he talks.

"I know, I said I would meet you at eleven-thirty, my meeting ran late-"

"Mr. Queen!"

The speaker on the other end of the phone isn't Felicity. It's Curtis. He's crying, babbling about _Felicity, Felicity, something happened to Felicity_.

"Curtis!" He may be yelling, he doesn't care, because why the fuck is Felicity's assistant calling him from her cellphone? "Just tell me what happened."

He can hear the other man sniff and let out a shuddery sigh. "She's gone, Mr. Queen."

It's like drowning again, the tightness in his chest as his lungs burn for air, his vision whiting out.

Felicity's gone.

/

"My sister would love one of those." The man standing next to her points to the bracelets laid out on the narrow folding table, the small Thai man behind it giving them a toothy smile.

The bracelets are simple but beautiful, stones woven with charms. Evil eyes for protection, the om sign (in Sanskrit and Tibetan) engraved for peace.

She doesn't remember a sister, or a brother for that matter. When she tries she only gets flashes, little scraps of memories that might not be memories at all.

A red hoodie. Green eyes. A designer handbag.

"Are you all right?" The man is beautiful, really. Tall, muscles to die for, eyes as blue as the ocean.

"I'm fine," she breathes, crossing her arms around herself. Isn't Thailand supposed to be warm?

The man looms over her. "You really should be going."

"What?"

He points to the sky, which is rapidly turning grey with storm clouds. "It's not very nice here when it gets dark."

/

By the time he gets to Palmer Tech Lance is already there, ready to intercept him.

Oliver lets the older man lead him by the arm into an alcove. All the fight goes out of him, he can't even think straight, just lets Lance pull him out of the crowd.

"There's a tape," Lance says, and he must not respond fast enough because Lance cuffs him lightly on the shoulder. "Snap out of it, Queen."

"What...what happened on the tape?"

Lance looks pale. "He just walked right into her office and she..."

"What? She _what_?" People in the lobby are staring.

Lance looks grim. "She went to him."

Oliver has to grip the wall to hold himself up. "She- _what_? No, no, Felicity wouldn't, she _wouldn't_."

"I saw it with my own two eyes. She went to him, and then..."

" _What_?" He's screaming, holding onto the wall like it's a life preserver. " _What happened_?"

"They disappeared, Oliver. One minutes they were there and then they were just...gone."

/

The library is beautiful. Paneled wood walls, shelves filled with hardback books that go up to the ceiling.

"How's it going?" It's the man from before, but now he's dressed in a tuxedo, leaning over her shoulder to stare at the computer screen in front of them.

"Ninety-eight percent," she says, reading the number off the screen.

"Shit," he hisses, jumping up to put his ear to the door. "Shit, hurry up."

She stares helplessly at the number on the screen, watching the little blue bar as the number ticks up to ninety-nine, and then one hundred. "Got it."

"Let's go." He's motioning to her frantically, one hand reaching out for her. There's something so familiar about it, but it's just out of her grasp. "Felicity, come on."

She pulls the little silver flash drive out of the laptop and stuffs it into the cleavage of her dress.

Felicity. At least she knows her name now.

She takes his hand and lets him lead her out the door and into the dark.

/

He watches it on a loop in the lair. The others flurry around him, making plans, scanning traffic cameras, digging into dark corners of the Internet for information on Darhk.

He stares at the screen, watching Felicity walk four paces to the door, takes the hand offered to her. And then she's gone. Just like magic.

No, not like magic, he reminds himself. _Actual_ magic.

"Ollie." Thea's fingers are light on his neck. "Ollie, maybe I should go back to Nanda Parbat."

He almost falls out of his seat. "What?"

Thea shifts her feet. "Malcolm knew him, maybe he knows something we could use-"

"No."

"But Ollie-"

" _I said no_!" he roars.

"Okay." Dig's hands are firm on his shoulders when he pulls him away. "Just calm down Oliver."

"Don't tell me to calm down. He took her, Dig, he took, he took her, _he_... _he_..."

"I know." Dig's voice is deep and calm. "And we're going to get her back."

/

She wakes up in the dark. It's darker than the darkest night, so dark she can't even see herself.

"Hey." The voice comes out of nowhere.

It's him. She can't see him but she can feel him, like he's right next to her.

"Am I dreaming?"

There's a light huff of breath in her ear. "Does it matter?"

She shifts on the cement floor. "I don't know. It feels like it _should_ , you know?"

"Maybe here you get to decided what's real."

"What, like I'm in some fourth dimensional template?"

He laughs. "I don't understand."

"In the fourth dimension you aren't constrained by things like gravity and mass and time. Everything is quantum, everything happens as soon as you can think it."

"How do you know all that?" He sounds amused.

"I don't know," she realizes. "I just do."

"Well," he says, "let's test your theory. What would you like, Felicity?"

She smiles. "Light, please."

There's a ripple of motion across her peripheral vision, and suddenly the dark lights up with a thousand stars.

"Oh," she gasps, her mouth falling open in awe.

"Looks like you were right." She turns to her side and he's right there, blue eyes shining in the starlight.

"Hi," she says. "It's you."

He grins at her. "Of course it's me."

"How do you know my name?"

"I'd know you anywhere," he says softly. "In any dimension."

"What's your name?"

"What?" he says playfully. "You don't remember?"

"Please," she asks.

He finds her hand on the floor and interlocks their fingers. "My name is Oliver."

/

It takes them four days to find her.

There's a warehouse, rented under a shell company owned by Kord Industries. A warehouse Damian Darhk visited four days ago, carrying a Felicity-sized black duffle bag.

Diggle runs tech. Thea and Laurel take care of the guards, leaving Oliver available to break through the backdoor.

He follows Dig's voice in his ear until he gets to a sealed door.

"Remember Oliver, you only have ninety seconds until the security alarm goes off."

"I'm ready."

"Copy. Doors opening in three, two, one..."

The door slides open and Oliver vaults into a lone hallway filled with doors and doors and doors, none of which were included in the blueprints of he warehouse.

He stands there for a paralyzing second, before jumping into action and kicking down the first door on the right. Empty.

Second door on the right, empty.

First door on the left-a child.

Oliver stares. It's a little boy, curled up in a ball on the cement floor, looking blankly back at him.

"Oliver, what the hell are you doing? Go!"

He stumbles backwards and starts kicking down doors again.

Empty, empty, empty, empty-

 _Felicity_.

"Felicity!"

She's backed into a corner of the little cement cell, her hands clapped over her ears to muffle the sound of the door splitting open.

"Hey, hey, Felicity!"

He falls to his knees in front of her and Felicity shrieks, covering her face with her arms.

"Get away from me!"

"Felicity, it's okay, it's me, it's Oliver!"

Felicity's hands drop to her sides. "Oliver?"

"Hey," he says, his whole body dropping in relief. "Hey, come here."

Felicity braces herself against the wall. "Oliver, what are you doing?"

"Oliver, _what are you doing_? Get our girl out of there!"

Dig's voice is a jolt of lighting in his veins. He doesn't explain to Felicity what's going on, he doesn't ask her why she's looking at him like that, like he's _scaring_ her.

He picks her up and he runs.

/

She sits in the back of the van with Oliver. The driver is a blond in a leather cat suit and there's a younger girl with dark hair and a red jacket-

 _A red jacket_ -

Felicity presses her palms to her temples.

"Hey." Oliver's hands are on her wrists. "Does your head hurt? Did he hurt you?"

She shrinks away from him. He's never been like this before with her when he's visited. He's always been calm, not like this, like he might go into cardiac arrest if she doesn't answer him. "Did who hurt me?"

Oliver's jaw twitches. The brunette turns around in her seat and gives her a razor sharp look. "Did she just say-"

"Thea." Oliver's voice is gravely.

"Why doesn't she know-"

" _Thea_."

Felicity curls her knees to her chest. "This is a really weird dream."

The blond snorts. "You're not dreaming."

She looks searchingly at Oliver, at his strange clothes, the world-weary look in his eye that she doesn't remember. She has a bad feeling, like something has happened, some fundamental shift, and she's been lost behind.

"Hey, Felicity, it's okay," he murmurs. His voice is soft and low now, calming, like dream Oliver.

"I don't understand what's happening," she confesses, curling her fingers around his wrists.

Oliver's eyes are sad. "I know."

"Do you remember anything?" the blonde girl asks.

Oliver exhales sharply through his nose. "Laurel-"

"The dark," Felicity says. "It was so dark."

Oliver nods carefully. "Then what?"

She observes his face, the man who made her see stars. "And then you came."

/

Felicity is shaking by the time they get her back to the lair. He carries her from the elevator to the med bay, where Dig already has an IV set up.

Felicity clings to him, he has to sit down on the metal table with her in his lap, her head tucked under her chin.

Dig nods raises an eyebrow at him and Oliver shakes his head quickly. _Shock_ , he mouths to Dig, and then points to Felicity's head.

"Felicity," Dig says, using the voice Oliver's heard him use on baby Sara, soft and patient. "I need to make sure you're not hurt, is that okay?"

She curls her fingers in Oliver's shirt. "You know me too?"

Dig's eyes flash with worry but he never drops his smile. "Yes, I do. My name is John."

Felicity peeks up at him and Oliver nods. "It's okay," he murmurs. "He's not going to hurt you."

Felicity allows John to detangle her left arm from Oliver's neck and hook her up to the IV.

"Pupils' look good," he announces, looking into Felicity's eyes with a penlight. "Anything hurt?"

Felicity shakes her head at him, snuggled up against Oliver's chest. He has a fist in her hair, breathing her in, feeling every muscle in his body slowly relax.

She's back. They got her back.

Felicity allows Dig to take a blood sample, which he sends to Star Labs with an overnight courier to get tested.

"Oliver, I really think you should get a doctor to check her out. We don't know what-"

"They wouldn't even know what to look for," Oliver mutters. "Whatever he did it wasn't...you know."

Felicity's half-asleep on him, mumbling something about stars, and the lights. "Too bright," she whispers.

"It was dark in there," Oliver explains to Dig, swallowing back a wave of nausea. Even the island had natural light.

Dig gives him a bottle of tranquilizers when they leave, pressing them into his palm.

"Just in case," he says quietly, watching Felicity's dazed eyes dart around the room.

When Oliver scoops her back up in his arms Felicity's still crying about stars.

/

Oliver takes her to an unfamiliar loft apartment in a city she doesn't recognize. He's careful with her, tentative, one hand light on the small of her back to keep her upright.

"You live here?" she whispers, following him up the stairs and down a hall to a bedroom.

"Actually..." Oliver clears his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. "We live here."

"Oh," she says, feeling a little stunned. It's one thing to have a devastatingly handsome dream guy, but it's another thing to find out that he's _real_.

"Felicity." He looks uncertain. "You remember me, don't you?"

She feels like he's asking a trick question, like there's an answer he's anticipating, and it's wrong.

"I remember your face," she answers honestly. "You'd come to me, sometimes."

Oliver frowns. "What do you mean?"

Felicity twists her hands, at a loss as to how to explain. "In my dreams. You'd be there, sometimes. You knew my name."

Something flicks across his face like a shadow. He nods, looking away from her, one hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes, feeling a tightening in her chest. "I'm sorry, I don't know what to say! I know you know me, and I don't really know you, and there must be something wrong with me because you keep looking at me like I killed your cat or something-"

"Hey, hey." Warm arms go around her shoulders. "Don't apologize, okay? It's not your fault."

"Oliver?"

"Yes, Felicity?"

"Can you stay? I didn't like being in the dark without you."

Oliver's grip on her tightens. "Yeah," he says thickly. "Of course I'll stay."

/

If someone asked him to describe Felicity, Oliver would have no shortage of words.

Strong. Brave. Noble. Brilliant.

She's the light that cuts through his darkness, the compass that always points him home.

She's the person who taught him to believe, the person who opened his heart and divined goodness, _greatness_ within him.

She's the woman he loves, the woman he's going to marry.

She's his soulmate.

Words he does not associate with Felicity:

Skittish. Fearful.

 _Quiet_.

/


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The initial response to this story has been so great; you guys are the best! Please remember to review ;)**

There are photos of them together hanging on the wall above one of the fireplaces in the loft.

There they are kissing under the Eiffel Tower, standing in awe in front of the Grand Canyon. There's another photo of them on the beach, somewhere tropical. She's wearing a sarong and Oliver's arm is slung around her waist.

They look sun kissed, in love.

Blessed.

"Here," Oliver says softly, pushing a mug into her hands. "I made you coffee."

He made her eggs too, when she wandered out of bed this morning and found him in the kitchen, eggs he served on a plate with cut strawberries and whole wheat toast.

(She'd eaten five bites of the eggs when her stomach curled in on itself and she'd crumpled over the breakfast bar, groaning. Oliver had rubbed her back, whispered something about re-feeding, _it was okay, he was sorry, so sorry_.)

"Where is this?" She points to the photo of them on the beach.

Oliver smiles faintly. "Thailand."

 _Thailand_.

She reaches out and traces their faces in the photo. She's beaming, her head tilted towards Oliver. He has a lazy smile on his face, his palm spread flat against her stomach.

"We look happy."

Oliver rubs his eyes quickly. "We were."

Felicity frowns, cradling the mug in her hands. "Oliver...are you and me...we're together, right?"

Oliver nods gently. "Yes."

"So...you're my boyfriend."

He chuckles. "Yes, Felicity, I'm your boyfriend."

"Wow," she sighs. "Lucky me."

"No." Oliver's hand is hovering above her shoulder, like he wants to touch her but isn't sure he's allowed to. "I'm the lucky one."

/

Felicity floats around the loft all day, going through the books in the library, examining the photos on the walls.

She spends an hour exploring her closet, pulling dresses out and running the fabric between her fingers. She doesn't say anything, just touches each outfit with a look of reverence on her face.

He has a feeling she's downplaying how little she remembers. She puts on a good act, but she's too quiet, too unsure. She seems disconnected, flat, observing everything in the loft with sharp eyes but no emotional response.

He wants to shake her; he wants to yell at her until she yells back. He wants her to be _her_.

Oliver wonders if this is how his family felt when he came back from the island. If they looked at him and saw a ghost, an imposter, a pale imitation of the person they really wanted.

He craves her, wants to crush her to his chest, wind his legs around hers, kiss every inch of her skin, but when he reaches for her she slips out of his grasp, floats away from him.

Dig calls and tells him all her tests came back clean, that other than being deprived of food and light for six days, physically she's healthy.

"Oliver, we have to talk about what we're going to do here."

"We're not going to do anything. I'm handling it."

"What, do you suddenly know how to cure magically induced amnesia?"

"What did you find out about the boy?"

Dig sighs into the phone. "He's alright. Back in Central City with his mom."

"Central City? Why would Darhk take a boy from Central City?"

"I don't know man. Look, about Felicity"-

"I'm handling it, Dig," he hisses, and hangs up.

/

The brunette from last night shows up around dinner time with a bag of Thai food tucked under her arm, letting herself in with a key hooked onto a little bag embossed with interlocking C's.

"I know, I know!" she says loudly, waving a hand at Oliver. "Don't freak, I got her soup."

Felicity sits at the table, watching Oliver and the other girl scurry around the kitchen. They move around each other with an easy grace, like two people who've known each other all their lives.

"Here," the girl says, setting a bowl down in front of her. "Tom kah kai, that's your favorite, right?"

"Um...thank you," she deflects, picking up a spoon with numb fingers.

The other girl's expression falls. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

"Thea," Oliver says stiffly, setting down plates of pad Thai.

"I'm sorry," Felicity apologizes. "I'm sure this is really weird for you-"

"Oh my god, don't apologize. Shit, I'm such an asshole." The girl plops into the chair next to her and holds out her hand. "Thea Queen."

Felicity holds her hand out. "Felicity..."

She glances sideways at Oliver, who winks. "Smoak," he supplies.

"I'm Ollie's sister," Thea explains, twirling chopsticks around her noodles.

"Oh." Felicity looks back and forth between them, trying to reconcile Oliver's blue eyes and light coloring with Thea's dark hair and fine bone structure.

"Half-siblings," Thea says flatly.

Felicity winces, seeing the way the girl's face goes blank, like she's purposefully shutting down. "I'm sorry-"

"Seriously, stop apologizing," Thea says. "It's not you, I'm being awful. Ollie, am I awful?"

"Why don't you get a bottle of wine from the kitchen?" he suggest lightly.

Thea grins. "Really, I get to pick?"

"Sure, grab a-"

"Red, yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry," he says, when Thea's in the kitchen. "She insisted on coming over. She means well."

She trails her spoon through the soup. "I feel like all we do is apologize to each other."

Oliver sighs. His hand is close enough to brush up against hers if she shifted just a little to the left. "Everything's just a little...raw right now. It'll get easier."

Felicity gives up on the soup and rests her head on the table, folding her arms under her cheek.

"Hey," Oliver says, "talk to me, Felicity."

She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe through the nausea, the sensation that everything's spinning under her.

"Felicity." Oliver slides his hand under her hair and cups her neck. "It's going to be okay."

She can't say anything back, so she reaches up and grabs his hand, and squeezes until the world rights itself again.

/

She comes into the bedroom when he's half dressed that night, sweatpants slung low on his hips, reaching for a shirt.

"Hey, Oliver, can you show me where-" Felicity freezes where she stands, her mouth falling open as she stares.

"Hey, Felicity-"

"What is all that?" she asks tightly, her hand waving over his torso. "Oliver, what happened?"

"It's fine," he says, pulling his shirt over his head. "I'm okay."

Felicity's eyes fill with tears. "But you're hurt."

"Hey, hey." She feels limp when he pulls her to him. "It was a long time ago. I'm okay."

Felicity sniffs and presses her cheek against his chest. "Did the person who did this to me do... _that_ to you?"

"No," he says. "This was...something else."

Her hands creep up to his waist. "I don't like this dream."

"Felicity." He cups her cheek, forces her to look at him. "You're not dreaming."

Felicity blinks rapidly, looking away from him. "I can't tell the difference."

Oliver holds her against him, kisses the crown of her head. "Then you'll just have to trust me, okay?"

Felicity sighs but leans into him, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. "Okay."

/

The things she does remember are varied and without context.

The periodic table. The taste of red wine. Panda bears. How to make coffee. The hot burn of the sun over the desert.

"She...her procedural memory," she overhears Oliver say into his phone, from where he's _hiding in their closet_. "...she recognized me!"

She presses her ear against the door, strains to make out the rest.

She hears him say, psychogenic amnesia. Dissociated. Time. Needs more time.

Things she doesn't remember: her birthday. Living here with Oliver. Her job. Her friends.

What it would feel like if Oliver pressed his lips against her mouth and kissed her.

/

He finds her in the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her body, twisting her torso so that she can examine the scar on her shoulder in the mirror.

"Do you know what this is?" she asks, catching his eyes in the mirror.

Oliver leans against the doorway. "Yeah. You, ah...were shot. A couple of years ago."

Felicity's eyes widen. "Shot?"

"It was kind of a freak thing."

"Huh," she says, tracing the scar. "So I guess I'm kind of a badass."

He comes up behind her, hands hovering above her shoulders. "Yeah, Felicity, you're a badass."

To his surprise she leans back into him, lets him cup her bare shoulders. Her skin is damp from the shower and it'd be so easy, to bend down and kiss her neck, lick the beads of water off her skin.

"Oliver," she sighs, her eyes half-shut in the mirror.

"Yeah?"

"What if I can't remember?"

He allows himself to trace the line of her shoulder blade. "You will."

"How do you know?"

"You remember me, right?"

"Yeah," she sounds unsure.

"The rest will come. Don't worry."

Felicity bites her lip. "How can you say that?"

He smiles at her reflection. "Because I know you. Trust me Felicity. You can do anything. You'll remember."

/

A man comes to see her at the loft, a young man with mocha colored skin and sad eyes. He gives her a bouquet of lilies (roses are cliche, he says with a sniff, like he might cry).

He says his name is Curtis, and you two work together. She instantly feels embarrassed but he says _no, no, please Ms. Smoak_ , so she stops apologizing.

He gives her papers to sign. There's a whole stack of them, with the logo Palmer Tech printed in the upper left corner. Oliver explains that they're arranging for her to take a leave of absence from work, which makes sense, considering she doesn't remember her work. Like, at all.

Oliver had tried to explain it but when it came down to the details he flushed and admitted that he didn't understand half the projects she was working on but they're important, very important.

She's starting to get the impression that she used to be a Very Important Person.

Curtis gives her a tablet when he leaves. It's a prototype, he explains, he thought she might enjoy playing with it.

Within the hour Oliver catches her hacking into the FBI, CTU, and Homeland Security. _Simultaneously_. She can't even explain why she did it. It just...felt like something she wanted to do.

He looks like he's torn between yelling at her and laughing, and settles for an indignant snort and an eye roll. A minute later he's on the phone with someone named Amanda, apologizing contritely and promising to restrain himself from comprising the entire security of his own country.

"Oliver," she asks, when he's off the phone. "You're not like...a _spy_ , are you?"

This time he does laugh. "No, Felicity. Not a spy."

"Are you sure?"

"Promise. Just an ex-party boy looking for redemption in the political sphere."

He's giving her an innocent smile and his voice is light, but she can't quite bring herself to believe him.

/

He wakes up in the middle of the night to Felicity, sobbing. _Oliver, Oliver, no, Oliver!_

"Felicity," he murmurs. "Felicity, wake up."

Felicity used to sleep curled into his side, no matter what position they were in-she couldn't let go of him, not even in sleep. He'd wake up to find her clutching his arm like a teddy bear, or her hands woven in his.

Now she's curled up in the fetal position, so far away from him she's practically falling off the bed, crying into her pillow.

"Hey, c'mere." Oliver finds her wrists and turns her so she's facing him. "You're okay, you were just dreaming."

"No," Felicity cries. "Oh god, Oliver, you were dead, you died. You _died_ , Oliver-"

"Felicity." He tugs her close enough to him so he can put his arms around her. She latches onto his waist and cries into his neck.

"It felt real," she gasps, shuddering against him. "It felt so real."

"Feel," he whispers, and pulls one of her hands up to his chest, over his heart. "I'm right here."

Felicity weeps. "There was...a sword. Someone killed you with a _sword_ , Oliver."

Oliver looks down at her hand on his side, pressed against the scar Ra's gave him last year.

"Felicity," he says slowly, "tell me more about your dream."

"That's all it was," Felicity sniffs. "You-you told me you loved me, and then you were gone, and I knew...I _knew_."

"I told you I loved you?"

"Yeah, and then you _left_ me and you _died_."

"Felicity!" He can't help it, he _laughs_ , and Felicity lifts her head in shock. "Felicity, I was wrong, it wasn't just a dream."

Felicity's eyes are wide. "Then what was it?"

He smiles down at his girl, because he knew it, he fucking _knew_ she could do it. "It was a memory."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter has an unexpected amount of baby Sara fluff, because even I needed a break from the angst. I'm taking a quick break from updating for the holiday; I'll be back with a new chapter this weekend. Please remember to review ;)**

"So," she says, balancing the glass of wine Oliver hands her on her thigh. "Tell me about us."

It's late afternoon and they're sitting on the balcony, watching the sun set over Star City. Oliver takes a sip of his wine and gives her an easy smile. "What do you want to know?"

"Okay, how did we meet?"

"Starting off easy, that's so nice of you." Oliver leans back against the window. "We met at work."

"At Palmer Tech?"

"Yes, well, no, actually, back then it was Queen Consolidated-"

"Queen? Like your family?"

"Yeah." Oliver looks a little bashful but she's not sure why. "I didn't even work there, but you did. I had a computer problem and Walter-he was the CEO back then-sent me to you."

 _My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood._

Felicity blinks rapidly and shakes her head. "So...we met and the rest was history?"

Oliver laughs. "Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

Oliver slides his hand through hers. "You and me...we had a few false starts."

Felicity frowns. "What do you mean?"

"When we met I wasn't...I wasn't ready," Oliver says pensively. "I was angry and I was lost and I wasn't in a place where I could be good to anybody, let alone be a good boyfriend."

Felicity traces his palm. "That doesn't seem like you."

"It was." Oliver looks ashamed.

"So what changed?" she asks softly.

"You," Oliver says. "We became friends. You were...you were kind to me. You were loyal. You were patient and you helped me, even when I was being an ass. Even when I treated you like shit, you were always there for me. You...believed in me."

"I must have thought you were worth it," she offers.

Oliver smiles but he still looks a little sad. "You did. I didn't always...I wanted the best for you, and for the longest time I thought that it wasn't me. I thought I didn't deserve you."

"This isn't a very romantic story," she grumbles.

"No," Oliver argues. "It is. We had turmoil, and drama, and heartbreak, and then..." he trails off, the darkness lifting from his face. "All of a sudden it was just you and me, and everything we'd been through, it was behind us, and it was just... it was perfect."

That makes her smile. "Really?"

"We ran away together," he says.

Her jaw drops. "We did not."

"Did too."

"No way!" Felicity says indignantly. "I would never give up my life for a guy!"

Oliver gets that look on his face, like she's said something more significant than she realizes.

"You were in love," he says, and when he catches her gaze she can't look away.

"Oliver..."

"I love you," he blurts out. "You don't have to say it back, but I need to say it, okay? I love you."

Felicity's throat gets tight and she launches herself into Oliver's lap. She doesn't say anything but she holds him tightly, pressing her face into the nuke of his neck, and hopes he understands.

She knows she loves him too, she just doesn't remember it.

/

Dig calls and convinces Oliver to bring Felicity over for dinner.

 _It'll be good for her._

 _She needs to be around people._

 _You can't keep her locked up in a tower, Oliver._

He still calls Lance first, who assures him that Damien Darhk has gone dark, _ha_ , but if he's really worried they can request a police escort. Oliver declines, but he brings a hunting knife strapped under his jeans, where Felicity can't see.

They haven't talked about the night he found her, why they were all wearing masks, and for some reason she hasn't asked.

Maybe on some deeper level she already knows.

Felicity comes downstairs in a pale pink cashmere sweater and skinny jeans, her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.

"Do I look okay?" She's biting her lip like she's nervous.

"You look beautiful," he reassures her, shrugging on his brown leather jacket. "You always look beautiful."

Felicity cocks her head. "You're totally a sap, aren't you?"

Oliver holds out his hand to her. "Only for you."

To his intense relief Felicity stretches her fingers out and latches onto him. "A girl could used to this, you know."

Oliver brushes his lips over her knuckles, watching the way her cheeks flush. "Come on, let's go."

Dig answers the door in jeans and a wrinkled tee shirt, a tiger sticker slapped over the back of his hand. "Hey guys, come on in. Felicity, how are you feeling?"

"Okay," Felicity says, smiling shyly and leaning into Oliver as they pass through the doorway.

Lyla comes into the living room looking relaxed, a matching animal sticker on her shirt. Sara toddles behind her, wearing the panda bear print fleece pajama set Felicity bought her a few months ago.

"Cece!" Sara squeals, holding out her arms to Felicity to be lifted.

Felicity bends down and picks her up, her eyes widening when Sara sighs happily and lays her head down on Felicity's shoulder. She makes a little noise in the back of her throat and stumbles back into Oliver.

"Okay?" he murmurs, steadying her with one hand on the small of her back.

"I don't know," Felicity says shakily. "I...I don't know."

Dig and Lyla are both watching carefully, ready to step in. "Is this triggering something?" Dig asks gently.

Felicity's eyes fill with tears. "I don't know." She blinks and a few tears roll down her cheeks. "I don't even know why I'm crying."

Sara lifts her head up and looks at Felicity with concern. "Cece boo-boo?" she asks inquisitively, looking at Lyla for confirmation.

"She thinks you're hurt," Lyla clarifies.

"Oh," Felicity sniffs and nods at Sara. "Yes sweetie, Cece has a boo-boo."

Sara frowns. "Wa boo-boo?"

Felicity taps her head. "Here," she says, caught in Sara's gaze. "Boo-boo head."

"She doesn't remember us but she remembers baby talk?" Dig mutters to Oliver.

Sara grasps Felicity's cheeks with her chubby hands and kisses her on the forehead. "Alba!" she announces cheerfully, looking proudly at Dig and Lyla. "Alba!"

"All better," Dig translates wryly, reaching out to take Sara from Felicity.

"Hey, are you okay?" Oliver murmurs to her. "If this is too much for you-"

"No, no." Felicity waves him away. "I'm okay."

"Okay," Oliver says easily. "You know, usually I'm the one that cries at babies."

"I don't believe that for one second," Felicity says, watching Sara wriggle down from Dig's arms and latch onto Oliver's shins.

Oliver squats down and she gives him a toothy smile. "Hi Sara."

Sara pats his knee affectionately. "Ha Lala."

"How are you?"

"Ow..ooo!" Sara says triumphantly.

Oliver grins. He couldn't help the burst of pride he felt when Sara learned to say his name a few weeks ago. Sometimes he can't believe Dig even allows him to lay eyes on his daughter. Can't believe how lucky he got.

"That was a good try," he praises her. "You're getting good at talking, aren't you?"

Sara gives him a serious nod and then tilts her head back and laughs maniacally, like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard.

"Oh dear god," he hears Felicity breathe above him. "It's like you don't even care if my ovaries explode."

/

Sometimes Felicity gets the feeling that she's in a cage again. That she's trapped in a box and the walls are closing in on her. Like she's suffocating.

She tried taking Oliver's keys and sneaking out but he catches her before she can slip out the door.

"Hey, where're you going?" He says it casually but a muscle in his jaw is twitching.

"For a walk."

"Okay hold on, let me just get my jacket."

"Oliver." She sighs, leaning against the door.

"Yeah?"

"I kind of wanted to go by myself," she explains, looking down at her shoes.

Oliver makes a noise of distress, a vein in his temple starting to throb. "Felicity, I explained to you-"

"It's not safe, yeah I know."

Oliver crosses his arms, standing in front of her patiently, waiting for her to accept defeat. She takes a step towards him and does a quick pivot, lunging for the door, but he's faster and has her pinned to the wall in two seconds flat.

"Nice try," he growls, snatching the keys out of her fist.

"Oliver, let me go!"

"Not until you promise not to do that again."

Felicity gives him a murderous stare and Oliver levels one right back at her. She feels enraged. He has everything, all the power, all the control, he knows everything, everything she doesn't, and _it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair!  
_  
"I know," Oliver says tightly. "I know it's not fair."

She pounds on his chest, struggling against his arms, but he just takes it, lets her vent all her anger until she starts to cry tears of frustration.

"Felicity," he says softly, finally releasing her. "Felicity-"

"Leave me alone!" She stomps away from him and up the stairs. "I just want to be alone!"

She goes into the master bathroom and runs a bath in the ridiculous marble tub that could easily fit four full grown adults. She strips her clothes off and gets into the water and cries.

She shouldn't have yelled at Oliver like that. He's been so kind to her, so patient, doing everything for her. She hadn't even considered how hard this must be for him, caring for someone who can't even remember their relationship.

Felicity groans and slides down until the water goes under her chin. She takes a full breath and submerges fully, stays under the water until her lungs burn.

After awhile there's a hesitant knock on the door. "Hey, it's me," he says. "Can I come in?"

She sighs and sinks under the bubbles she ran with the water.

"Felicity, I'm coming in now."

The door opens slowly, like he's waiting for her to kick him back out. Oliver comes in looking contrite, hands in his pockets.

"Hey," he says benignly. "Are you okay?"

She shrugs, trailing her hand through the bubbles.

Oliver comes close enough to sit on the floor next to the tub. He sighs and reaches up to grab her hand.

"You've always been an independent person," Oliver says without preamble. "Especially before we were together. You're very smart, and good at things. I think I need you a lot more than you need me sometimes, to be honest."

"Oliver," she says, because he sounds sad and she's not really sure why.

"You can be stubborn," Oliver says. "But we're evenly matched there. You don't like being told what to do. You don't like to ask for help."

"Why?" Felicity asks. "You seem very...helpful."

Oliver smiles faintly. "I don't know," he muses. "I think maybe you're afraid if you depend on people they'll let you down."

"Has that happened before?" she asks cautiously.

Oliver sighs heavily. "Yeah. Yeah, it has."

She starts to cry quietly, curling over to rest her head on her knees.

"Hey, don't do that." Oliver curls over her protectively. "It's going to be okay."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," she sniffs. "I just get so frustrated."

"I know," he says softly. "I know you do."

"I just...I don't know what to do! What if I never remember, or what if you get sick of me, or-"

"Hey, hey, enough." Oliver pulls her to his chest and she lets him, even though she's naked and it's Oliver, and normally that would make her cheeks flame. "You and I have always been a team. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

Felicity sniffs and buries her face in his neck. "Thanks for being so patient with me."

Oliver strokes her wet hair. "You've always been patient with me. I'm just returning the favor."

/

He finds an envelope of Felicity's childhood photos in a Jimmy Choo shoebox in her closet. He sits her down on the couch, spreads the photos out in front of her to look.

Felicity stares for a while before cautiously reaching out and selecting a photo of her and Donna. She holds it close in front of her, her brow furrowed.

"Is this...is this my mom?"

"Yeah."

She traces her mother's face. "She's so pretty."

"Yeah, you have good genes," Oliver agrees.

Felicity smiles. "What's she like?"

"Well, she's kind of the life of the party," Oliver says, grinning. "She's loud. Fun. And she loves you like crazy."

Felicity blinks and puts the picture down. "I don't remember anything."

"That's okay," he reassures her. "It'll come."

Felicity frowns and touches a photo of herself at eighteen with pitch black hair. "Am I…do I? Oh my god, do I dye my hair?!"

"Felicity, don't freak out, but there's something I should tell you," he says seriously.

"What?" Felicity says nervously, stroking her ponytail.

"Felicity," Oliver says, putting his hand on her thigh. "You're not a natural blond."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this chapter, only one more left after this. All I can really say is that the fact that magic has gone cannon is really starting to do things to my brain. Weird, weird things. Please remember to R &R ;)**

In the morning, when Oliver hands her a cup of coffee, Felicity says thanks, and leans in and kisses him.

Okay, it's not a kiss kiss. It's a peck, a soft press of her lips to his, practiced and smooth.

She kisses Oliver. On the mouth. With her mouth.

"Ohmygod," she exclaims, stumbling back away from him, almost spilling the coffee. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I don't, I don't even know why I did that."

Oliver, however, looks delighted. His eyes are twinkling and he's grinning at her like an idiot. "Felicity."

"Yes, person I barely know that I just kissed?"

Oliver laughs and pulls her closer to him. "I'm your boyfriend."

She exhales. "Right."

"You're allowed to kiss me."

"Oh," she says, flushing. She knows they're together, in real life, they even sleep in the same bed. But he's been so gentleman-ly, hasn't tried anything more intimate than a hug, a soft caress of her neck.

Oh my god. She and Oliver have had sex.

Oliver wraps his arm around her waist, bending down to nuzzle at her neck. "In the mornings I always make coffee for you before you go to work."

"Oh," she sighs, feeling her skin breakout in goosebumps.

"And you always say, _thanks_ , or _thanks Oliver_ , or sometimes if you're tired just _mmph._ And then you kiss me."

"Really?"

"Every time." Oliver kisses her shoulder. "It's kind of our thing."

Felicity smiles. "I don't remember that but I like it."

"But that's the thing, I think you do."

She turns in his arms so she can see his face. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know what muscle memory is?" Oliver asks.

She nods slowly. "Yeah."

Oliver leans in so their foreheads are touching. "Your body remembers this, even if you don't yet. Your muscles, your skin. Your heart. Your bones."

She feels hot, like the temperature in the room has gone up ten degrees. "Is that why people say, I know it...in my bones?"

"You know me, Felicity. Even if you don't know it here..." He kisses her temple, one hand drifting down to her chest, folding over her heart. "You know. Here. It's still here."

"So like, my molecules...remember your molecules."

"Oh Felicity." Oliver dips his head to nip at her chin, making something deep (bone deep) roll through her body. "I'd know your molecules anywhere."

/

Thea's the one who finds the witch.

"I'm not sure we're supposed to call her that," Thea says, climbing out of the Range Rover. "I think it might be like, offensive."

They're in the Glades, parked outside a crumbling storefront, because somehow Thea found a witch.

"How'd you find out about her again?" Oliver asks, checking to make sure the street is clear before stepping out of the car.

"Oh, you know. I have my ways," Thea says casually.

Oliver has a creeping feeling that her way is Malcolm, but decides to let it go, filing away a note to grill Thea about it later.

Right now they have an appointment with a witch.

"I think they prefer Wiccan," Thea says, pressing the buzzer of a dusty brick building. "Or pagan, maybe."

"Hello? Who eez zis?"

"Hi!" Thea says brightly. "I have an appointment? Under Queen?"

The door buzzes and Thea pushes it open, Oliver following behind. They take a rickety elevator to the fifth floor, walk down a dimly lit hallway to number 511.

The woman who's supposed to be a witch doesn't really look like a witch. She's not dressed all in black with pointy fingernails, and there aren't pentagons on the wall.

She looks normal, like a soccer mom, dressed in faded jeans and a striped tee shirt, her shoulder length hair a little frizzy. Then she notices him standing behind Thea and crosses her arms.

"Who eez zis?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

Thea's smile falters. "This is my brother, Oliver. I'm sorry, I guess I should have told you he was coming?"

The witch (Wiccan, pagan) (oh who he is kidding, he doesn't care) reaches out towards him. Her brow furrows as she holds her hand in front of his chest, like she's testing the air around him.

"You carry quite a lot of pain here, eez true, oui?"

Oliver blinks, feeling a bit stunned. Thea leans into him, looking worried. "You're Madame Bisette, right?"

"Oui." Madame Bisette gives Thea a stern look. "You are not here because of your bruzzer?"

"No," Thea says haltingly. "We're here because of someone else."

Oliver pulls out the snapshot of Felicity that he keeps in his wallet and holds it out. "We're here because of her."

Madame Bisette takes the photograph and studies it. "Who eez zis?"

"She's his girlfriend-"

"I love her," he says firmly. "And she needs help. Your help."

The older woman raises her eyebrows at Thea. "Zis is why you come to me. Your bruzzer's lover?"

"Please," Thea says. "We don't know anyone else that can help us."

"Merde," Madame Bisette mutters, and lets them into the apartment.

She sits them down at a little wooden table in her kitchen. No candles, no voodoo dolls, just salt and pepper and a framed picture of two children. "Explain, what eet eez you zink I can do for zis mademoiselle."

Oliver and Thea both struggle to explain what Damian Darhk did, how he has magic, _real_ magic, which is why they need a witch, a real witch.

Madame Bisette looks intrigued, a little horrified. "You say she remembers nuzzing, zis girl?"

"She remembers me," Oliver says. "Well, she remembered my name. That's something, right?"

Madame Bisette narrows her eyes at him. "You love zis girl, oui?"

Oliver nods seriously. "Yes."

She leans back in her chair. "Zair eez a way."

Thea squeezes his hand. "Really?"

"Well." The older woman shrugs. "I didn't say eet would be easy but eez possible."

"How?" Oliver asks, wishing she would just _get on with it_ already.

"A spell of course. I give, to you. Eez not cheap."

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Of course not."

Madame Bisette pats his hand. "Don't worry. I write eet myself. Eez very good. Very good spell for her. Will fix, oui? Madame Bisette eez zee best, I make special spell, just for you."

She spends an hour writing out something in Latin, and then another page of instructions for Oliver.

"You follow exactly, understand? Ozzerwise you have problem. Magic eez serious, eez not joke, oui?"

"Oui," Thea says, winking at Oliver. "Follow exactly, we get it."

Madame Bisette snorts and points at Thea. "You come back, you know. Just like your papa."

Thea blanches. "Excuse me?"

Madame Bisette pats Thea's arm. "Eez not your fault, cherie. _Un Grand Guignol_. But even blood does not run forever."

"What the hell was that?" Thea says, when they're back in the car. "That French bit, Un Grand Guignol? Was she taking about Malcolm?"

"No idea," Oliver mutters, trying to shake off the feeling of the witch's eyes on his, like she could see every layer of him down to the bone.

"That was creepy as fuck," Thea says. "But she seemed legit, right?"

Oliver looks down at the stack of papers in his hand. "She better be."

/

Oliver picks her up from Dig and Lyla's, with a look on his face she can't place. Nervous, maybe? His fingers tap the steering wheel the whole way back to the loft, while she curls up in the passenger seat trying not to worry.

"So," Oliver says, when they're back in the loft, a fire going in the living room. "I saw someone today. With Thea."

"Um...okay?" she says. "Is this why you look all-whatever that is?"

Oliver comes and sits down next to her on the couch. "We saw a witch."

Felicity laughs. "Yeah, okay, Oliver."

"Felicity..."

Her mouth falls open. "Are you serious?"

Oliver grits his teeth. "The man who did this to you, he's not exactly...well, he has some...gifts."

Felicity blinks rapidly, feeling a little dizzy. "Like-magical gifts?"

Oliver smiles weakly. "Yeah."

"Oh," she says faintly. "Yeah, okay. Sure. A witch. Oh boy."

Oliver catches her when she slumps sideways. "Hey, relax, you're okay."

"I know," she babbles, "just- _magic_ -and brain cells exploding because- _witches_ , seriously, _witches_?"

"Felicity, she said she could fix you."

"She _what_? Are you serious."

Oliver nods. "She wrote-well she wrote a spell-"

"A _spell_?"

"I know," Oliver agrees. "It sounds ridiculous, but-"

"Well come on, let's do it!" she exclaims. "If it can make me remember then come on! Let's get this magic show on the road."

Oliver starts to laugh. "I really love you, you know that?"

Felicity squeals and jumps off the couch. "Pretty soon I'll be able to answer that with a yes."

/

The spell is actually quite specific.

Eight tall candles, all white, lit in a circle around Felicity on the floor.

A bowl of water, which Felicity drinks from and then Oliver.

And then the page of Latin, which Oliver reads out loud, standing over Felicity with his left hand covering the crown of her head.

He's halfway through the spell when he feels something under his hand. It's like a tremor that starts at the base of her neck and runs through her skull. Felicity makes a noise in the back of her throat and her eyes slam shut.

He wants to stop, to make sure she's okay, but written at the bottom of spell are the words, DO NOT STOP UNTIL COMPLETED. Three times, in a row, so Oliver figures it would be really bad to stop.

It gets harder when her whole body starts to shake, little whimpers coming out of her mouth. Oliver talks faster, the words leaving his mouth foreign on his tongue.

When he gets to the end Felicity is practically vibrating, he has to grip her head with his fingertips to maintain contact. Oliver says the final words and drops his hand. She's very still, sitting on the floor with her eyes closed.

"Felicity," he says quietly, crouching down in front of her. "Felicity?"

When she collapses Oliver barely catches her before her head hits the floor. " _Felicity!_ "


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys! Here, we are, the end of the story! I hope you enjoy, please remember to review ;)**

In the beginning, there was darkness.

All she knew, all she ever was, her entire existence, was there in that dark cell. Her history erased by a man with cold eyes and hands better than any weapon.

She was reborn, a tabala rosa, a blank slate, an observer of the continuous black night.

Alone, afraid, nothing.

And then there was Oliver.

Oliver with the blue eyes and warm skin, hands that flexed with strength but touched her with careful, gentle precision. Oliver, who wove in and out of her dreams.

Oliver who held her hand, Oliver who smiled, Oliver who lit up the stars.

Then came the sister, Thea, John the friend, Lyla the wife, Sara, the baby named after a warrior she doesn't remember.

And Oliver, always Oliver. Guiding her, holding her, making her feel safe when she had nothing but him, a head full of useless facts with no thread to tie them together.

Now there was only chaos.

/

By the time Thea shows up at the loft Felicity's moved on from the wine glasses to the tumblers.

"What the hell is going on?" Thea asks, flinching at the sound of breaking glass. "It didn't work?"

"Oh, it worked," Oliver says wryly.

"Then why is she breaking all the glassware?"

"We didn't read the fine print." He hands the instructions for the spell over to his sister. Written in small letters on the back of the page:

 _Memory recall may be initially accompanied by extreme and/or excessive emotional response_.

"Oh," Thea whispers, "any particular memory-"

"You!" Felicity shouts, coming around the table to point her finger at Thea. "You knew he was _married_ and you were just gonna let me think-"

"She remembers Nyssa," he explains dryly. "Hence the mess."

"I don't think a League wedding is technically legally binding," Thea jokes weakly. "And it would have been kind of hard to explain the circumstances, you know-"

"Unbelievable!" Felicity shouts, angrily pushing her hair away from her face. "You-goddamn-you Queens are fucking unbelievable! I cannot believe all the shit I put up with, and you were just going to-what if I never remembered?"

"Felicity, honey," he says tightly. "Just take a deep breath."

"Screw you," she yells. "Screw you and your pretty face, and you just...just..."

"You're overwhelmed," he says. "It's a side affect of the spell."

"I cannot believe I let you perform _magic_ on me," Felicity snarls. "Jesus Christ, Oliver."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Thea says cheerfully. "You didn't break all the glasses, did you?"

"Um-maybe," Felicity mutters.

"Oh well," Thea says, a bright smile on her face. "Guess we'll have to drink from the bottle."

/

She wakes up in the morning warm all over, the memory of her dream still freshly imprinted.

Oliver's hands all over her, his weight heavy over hers, her body melting like warm honey. Felicity rolls on her side, thighs pressed together against the wetness between her legs.

Oliver is staring at her, looking beautiful against the cream sheets. He gives her a slow, sleepy smile, one hand sliding under the sheet to rest on her hip.

"You're staring," she says softly, aware of the heat from his palm sinking into her skin.

Oliver smiles gently. "I missed you."

His thumb starts to run over her hipbone and Felicity sighs. "Mmhm. That feels good."

"Did you sleep well?"

She rolls a little on one flank, their legs tangling together. "I dreamt we were making love inside Aladdin."

Oliver grins. "Nanda Parbat."

"Our first time."

He pushes into her a little, so he can curl one arm under her shoulders. "That was a good night."

"That was one good part of a terrible night," she corrects.

"Worth it," Oliver says, his hand splayed between her shoulder blades.

"So worth it."

"So you remember that, huh?" Oliver murmurs.

Felicity's mouth goes dry. "Uh-huh."

Oliver curls over her and she presses her thighs tighter together. "You sure you don't want a refresher?"

 _Oh sweet baby Jesus_. "Um...yeah. I could use a refresher."

Oliver presses his lips to her collarbone. "I was hoping you'd say that."

The hand on her hip slides over to her stomach and she swallows a moan, remembering the dream, how good she felt, how good he made her feel.

"Felicity," Oliver groans against her throat, and bands his arm around her so she's pressed against his chest. "God, sweetheart."

"Oliver." She's wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and one of his tee shirts with the arms cut off. His hand creeps up her stomach, making her muscles clench.

He pushes against her and Felicity whimpers, letting her legs fall open so he can settle in the cradle of her hips. He's solid muscle on top of her, resting on his forearms so he doesn't crush her.

"God, Oliver," she pants, rolling her hips. "Sorry about last night, I wasn't myself-"

"Fine, it's fine," he mutters, distracted with yanking the shirt off her head and kicking off his sweatpants. "Who cares, it's over-"

"I love you," she blurts out, pulling him back down on top of her. "I love you so much."

Oliver's mouth comes down to her chest, making her gasp and arch up into him. "I love you too."

She's shaking, her fingers gripping his waist , moaning when he rolls his hips. "Oliver, God, Oliver-"

"I know, baby, I know." He has one hand between her legs, sliding under her shorts where she's slick with need.

She cries out, her toes digging into the mattress at the touch of his fingers, something in her center curling in on itself.

"Shh, relax," he whispers, going slowly, slowly, parting her carefully, pressing down with the heel of his hand just where she needs the most pressure. "I've got you."

Felicity shuts her eyes, and lets herself falls, knowing Oliver will be there to catch her.

She lets Oliver bring her back to the light.

/

In the beginning there was darkness.

Sara screaming for him helplessly. Water, cold and dark, fighting the air in his lungs, the salt making his eyes burn.

A gunshot echoing across an endless sea while a boat sinks.

The island.

Shado, Slade. Waller.

Blood. Hunger like he'd never known, his ribs aching with need. The fear like an animal, his chest always tight, heart pounding in his ears.

 _Five years where nothing good happened._

Then Oliver came home. Stumbled along, messed things up with everyone, Tommy, Laurel. His mother. Fought and ran and hurt alone, tunnel vision, the ghost of his father squatting on his shoulder.

And then there was Felicity.

Silky blond hair, blue eyes like a cloudless spring sky, body like an old time pin up model.

Felicity with her brilliant brain, that smile, shiny white teeth and pink lipstick.

She'd smile at him and he'd get the strangest feeling in his chest, like he could almost see the cartoon bubble hovering above her head:

 _Stick with me, kid, and this too can be yours_.

A life of sunshine, and kindness, a soft skinned girl who give you chance after chance to break her heart.

A girl who would die for you.

A girl you'd never allow to be hurt because of you.

Of course he's changed in the years since he's been back. Become serious, more grounded, introspective. He's lost his mother, and Tommy. Gained friends, a purpose, something greater than himself.

But in the end it all comes down to her. Felicity. His yearning to be a better man, to change, to make something good in this mess of his life.

Felicity waiting for him on her pedestal with her arms outstretched, waiting for him to be ready for her.

Felicity who brought him back into the light.


End file.
